


Secret Ingredient

by moovelope



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Animal Abuse, Crack, cake hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moovelope/pseuds/moovelope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John is as stealthy as a ninja, Nic Cage is on the line and the hatred of cake is explored far too in-depth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Ingredient

John pushed the disguise once more up on his face before taking a deep breath. Since the glasses and fake nose did not fit easily over his regular eyewear, they would constantly slide down his face. What a hassle! And no one will believe that your fake nose is a real one if it falls off your face! Still, John was determined that he could keep them in place long enough to succeed in his ULTRA SUPER IMPORTANT MISSION. Well, his mission to sneak downstairs into the kitchen and retrieve the movies he had rented that afternoon. He was such an idiot for accidentally leaving them down there to begin with! How could he have forgotten Season of the Witch down there!! He'd only been waiting forever to rent it.

Disguise firmly in place he felt his hope rise. This time, this time for sure he would be able to sneak past his dad, or convince him he was someone else. Someone who just so happened to be in his house looking for another piece of fine theater gold starring Nic Cage.

He quietly pulled the door of his room open. Rose didn't understand how good an idea this was, she was just being stupid telling him otherwise over pesterChum. John crawled the length of the hallway; he wouldn’t be caught this early in the pursuit! Then, as he reached the stairs, he sidled against the wall, trying to look as inconspicuously as possible as one can with a Groucho Marx disguise on. He made it to the first level, ducking behind the couch and quickly crawled past it.

There, he could see the kitchen, and the movie! Even better, his dad wasn't there! Ha, all that secrecy for nothing. John straightened himself up and strode in the room to get his movie.

Just as John reached out for the game he heard the soft tap behind him. The only kind of tap one can make by tapping a wooden pipe softly on a wall. He froze completely.

"Well, who do we have here?" he heard his father ask. Well, shit.

"It's-I'm from blockbusters,” John started, dropping his voice lower so that his dad wouldn’t recognize it, he could still make it! “I'm-we're doing a survey on how safely the DVDs get to the customer’s home! This one er-it seems damaged? Yeah, no totally damaged I'm going to have to take-"

A soft snicker from his father and he knew the jig was up. John turned around to face him, holding the DVD. Perhaps he could make a run for it? No, his dad was blocking the way into the living room. Dad tapped his pipe softly against the wall for a second time, not looking at John. Well of course he wasn't looking at him, stupid.

"My son will be very unhappy when he discovers his movie has been recalled. Perhaps you'd just like to stay for a drink? Or a slice of cake?" Oh god damn it. Today of all days he would decide to play along with the little charade. And, oh shit fuck did he mention cake? He's staring towards the refrigerator, only a little bit off to the right. Oh god, no please not the leftovers from last night. John swears that he'll puke. Again.

"Actually Dad- I mean sir, I think I'm just gonna run up to my room-" John made a dash for it under his father's arm. All Dad had to do, however, was feel for the vibrations John’s feet made as they slapped against the linoleum floor.  Just as the boy was ducking under his arm, he reached out and grabbed him around the waist.  John tried to escape for a few seconds, until he decided it was a lost cause. As he relaxed in his father's grip, his shoulders were pushed back and he was standing up straight. John looked into the milky film of his father’s eyes and scowled. God, this was going to be horrible.

"You can watch your movie after dinner, now you can go set the table." His shoulders were released, and John went and moodily grabbed two plates and silverware as his father grabbed the leftovers from the fridge. The oven was already heated up (how did John miss that?) and all Dad had to do was slip in the tray that carried two overlarge portions of "red velvet" cake. Cake must always be served warm in the Egbert household, just another crazy thing his father insisted on.

"Oh, son, I almost forgot to tell you that Mr. Simmons is coming over tomorrow to drop off another delivery."

John nearly choked. "Again? He was here last Monday!"

"We went through the last delivery faster than I expected," the man replied, eyeing the cake. "Really what would I do without the most essential ingredient?" His foot tapped against the floor, keeping time since he couldn't see the timer on the oven.

"You'd be a normal person, for starters," John muttered under his breath. His father's head snapped around so fast to face him that John jumped a bit.

"What was that, champ?" he asked, voice tense. He reached behind him and grabbed his oven mitts without turning away from John.

"I-er, I said that you'd just be a normal person, and what fun would that be! He, hehe..." John laughed weakly. He had learned the lesson at an early age; do not mess with his father and baking.

Dad frowned slightly, but turned to face the oven and remove the cake slices right before the timer went off. He reverently slid the meal onto their respective plates as John handed him his milk. Picking up his fork as slowly as possible, he delayed taking the first bite. He could stall. Stall for so long that his father would forget that he had even given him any cake to begin with and just let John off to watch his movie. How could he buy some time? Conversation, yes, yes, perfect.

"So, uh, what type is Mr. Simmons bringing tomorrow?" Shit shit shit, why did he have to mention that??

"Does it matter?" his father asked, chewing slowly, savoring his cake. John gulped, and then took a sip of his milk.

"No, I mean, it's just interesting to know."

"Well, if you say so. Border collie this time."

"They have border collie seeing eye dogs?"

"If you know where to look. Now, eat up before your cake gets cold. That German Sheppard was delicious the first night I made this dessert, and it's still just as good. Don't waste your food." John fought back the small gag that threatened to overcome him. You'd think he'd be used to all of this by now.  Yet, seeing and becoming close with each dog before they were prepared for dinner left a toll on him. Nowadays he tried to stay as far away from the doomed furry creature as he could. Tries to ignore how his father’s cakes always tasted slightly of kibble.

John totally thinks his dad's nuts.

John also really really fucking hates cake.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I need to explain a bit of this. A friend of mine recently started reading Homestuck and asked me "Why doesn't John's dad have eyes?" And that snowballed into a story in which Dad is a blind, seeing-eye dog hating man. So, you know, pretty normal story.


End file.
